Bring It On
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Morgan's response to being made active Unit Chief post-ep 5x04 "Cradle to Grave"


**_A/N - Another oneshot brought to you courtesy of Kavi Leighanna and Sienna27's Bonus TV Prompt Challenge. Thanks, ladies. Thanks also to a wonderful beta and friend, tonnie2001969. Please feel free to leave a review or PM and let me know what you thought. Any ideas are greatly appreciated, too. As ever, I don't own Criminal Minds._**

**Bring It On**

**Prompt: Scrubs – "My New Role"**

The words kept running through my mind as Hotch kept up his inane chatter about forms and policies as I watched him across the gleaming surface of his over-sized desk.

I did not ask for this. I did NOT ask for this…this…role. My new role. What the fuck else could I call this thing my Unit Chief had thrust on me. This was about as messed up as it could get. He had to know I wasn't prepared for this, despite anything I might have said in the past. I wasn't ready. Hell, I was still making mistakes. Big, BIG mistakes.

Mistakes that I knew if they came to light, I was royally screwed. I knew Baby Girl wouldn't rat me out, but still. Any agent that could make the kind of rookie foul up I'd made…he had no business leading anybody. Especially now. When everything was hanging on the line.

I didn't want to let Hotch down. I didn't want to let any of the team down. But I was a fraud. Putting on Hotch's shoes wasn't gonna suddenly make me qualified for this job. And I knew it. Where the fuck was Rossi? This should be his deal. He was Hotch's right hand. Not me. I was more like that pesky younger brother that he had no choice but to love.

Leveling Hotch with a steady gaze across the desk, I decided to ask my question. Hell, what was the worst he could do now? Tell me to get fucked? Ha! Technically, he couldn't do that now. I was his superior. Shit! That felt wrong to think, let alone say.

"Why the hell not Rossi?" I asked, hoping he'd decide to give me an easy answer and for a change, not make me work for it.

"Excuse me?" Hotch asked, looking up from the pile of forms in his hand.

"I asked you why the hell you wouldn't just tag Rossi for this stint?" I asked again, raising a brow at him. Hey, my question made sense, didn't it. Hell, that old fart had something like twenty years more experience than me, didn't he?

"I thought about it," Hotch replied slowly. "I even mentioned it to him," he added for good measure.

"And?" I asked impatiently. Damn, getting a straight answer out of Hotch was like a freaking trip to the dentist. Endless friggin' pain.

"And he agreed with me. You need to grow up. And maybe, this'll force you to do it," Hotch replied evenly.

Fuck. I'd asked for it. And Aaron Hotchner wasn't anything if he wasn't brutally honest. And for a second, I wondered if he actually knew about my clusterfuck of a life. Screwing a victim's sister…Christ, rookie mistake…rookie, rookie mistake.

"Gee, thanks, Man," I smirked in reply, trying to cover my unease with this new reality. "Appreciate the vote of confidence."

"You asked," Hotch shrugged.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I resisted the urge to tell Hotch to go to hell. God knows, I really wanted to. But, none of this was really his fault. He was a victim of his circumstance with very little control left. I, on the other hand, had consciously made my mistake. I didn't have anybody to blame. Hell, Garcia had tried to warn me.

"Morgan? Derek?"

Lifting my eyes, I realized that Hotch had been trying to get my attention.

"Sorry, Man, zoned out for a second," I said, offering a half-hearted smile.

"Yeah, as Unit Chief, you're going to have to try and stay coherent. At all times," Hotch cautioned with a penetrating look.

"Hotch, are you sure about this?" I asked once more, hoping he'd suddenly yell, "You've been punked!"

"No, Derek, I'm not. What I am sure of is that options are limited. Reid and Prentiss don't have the seniority to take on this kind of role. Rossi won't do it. That leaves you. Or the unit can break. So, I'm asking you…are YOU sure about this?"

Shit. A good old-fashioned guilt trip. Good one, Hotch. I had to give the guy credit, he knew how to lay it on the line. And he knew me. There was no way I could allow the team to splinter. Not if I could do something to prevent it. And, I wondered for a second if I could get away with playing chicken with Rossi. But somewhere inside, I knew that old bastard wouldn't be the one blinking first. No, it was gonna be on me.

Well, screw it! Leveling steely eyes at my former boss, I smiled tightly. "Bring it on, Hotch."

**_FINIS_**


End file.
